


Don't Destroy What You See

by HopeCoppice



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Families of Choice, Family, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Other, fixing mistakes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:53:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21572527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopeCoppice/pseuds/HopeCoppice
Summary: Warlock Dowling had a very weird upbringing. But he wasn't abandoned completely, when he turned out not to be the Antichrist after all.A small collection of scenes based on Crowley and Warlock's relationship (with some Aziraphale for good measure).
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley & Warlock Dowling
Comments: 24
Kudos: 301





	Don't Destroy What You See

**Author's Note:**

> The second scene wormed its way into my head, so.
> 
> Title from Queen's "Father to Son".

Saying goodbye to Warlock was a tearful affair; Crowley was only glad that Aziraphale had left two weeks earlier, so as not to arouse suspicion. He didn't need the angel to see him cry.

"Are you going away to live with Brother Francis?" Warlock asked, sniffling, and Crowley reasoned that it was close enough to the truth.

"Yes, lamb."

"Because you love him." All these years, Crowley had been so sure that he was hiding his feelings for Aziraphale well, and it turned out a ten year old could see it.

"Yeah. Besides. Someone has to keep him out of trouble."

“Who’s going to keep _me_ out of trouble?”

“Oh, you’ll be all right, lamb. You’ve got plenty of people watching over you.”

One last hug, a last reminder to behave himself, and they parted ways.

* * *

Six months later, Crowley was disguised as a caterer, discreetly checking his watch at the world’s most boring birthday party. Aziraphale had just introduced himself as the amazing Mr Fell, and was now fiddling with one of his props while the kids looked ready to riot. Crowley could sympathise; they didn’t even know what they were in for yet.

“Nanny,” Warlock said, and he looked down to find that the birthday boy himself was right beside him, gazing up with the same artfully innocent expression he always wore when he was curious and wanted to charm an answer out of someone, “does that magician look familiar to you?”

_Don’t give me that look, I invented that look. I taught you that look!_

“No, lamb, I don’t recognise-” The innocent expression vanished, replaced with pure triumph, and Crowley realised his mistake a moment too late. “Oh, _bollocks_.”

“You didn’t raise a fool, Nanny Ash.”

“Don’t call me that-” His voice had dropped to a hiss without him thinking about it. “Look, your parents wouldn’t approve.”

“Because you’re a man now, or because your accent is different?”

“Er- probably both. Don’t you want to go and watch the magic?”

“I’ve seen all those tricks before. That _is_ Brother Francis, isn’t it?”

Crowley sighed wearily.

“Unfortunately, yes. I’ll give you ten quid to go and sit there with the others. We’re going to draw attention otherwise, and then I’ll have to leave.”

“Sit there and watch, no heckling?”

“Warlock, lamb.” Crowley bent down to slip the folded ten-pound note into the boy’s hand, speaking quietly into his ear as he did so. “When did I ever say no heckling?”

It was a prosperous and cheerful birthday boy who resumed his place in the front row. Unfortunately, he was never joined by any manner of dog, even when all hell broke loose.

* * *

After the Apocalypse hadn't happened, they found themselves at a loss. Aziraphale had taken to inviting Crowley out for a walk or a meal or a drink in the shop, then abruptly going quiet and making excuses for them to go their separate ways. It was becoming a little exhausting, actually, trying to anticipate what exactly might make Aziraphale shut down.

So it was a relief, almost, when he had to turn down an invitation to dinner.

"Sorry, angel, I've already promised to take someone else out for dinner tonight."

"Someone else?" Aziraphale seemed to wilt. "Oh. Of course. I understand, of course there's someone else."

"Yeah, I don't want to let him down. Tomorrow, angel?"

"Hm? Oh, yes, certainly, if you aren't busy then. I'll understand if something comes u- oh, dear, that's not what I meant to say at all-"

"Nothing's gonna come up, angel. I'll see you tomorrow."

Whatever had got the angel so flustered, Crowley put it from his mind as he pulled up just down the road from the Dowling house. Warlock hopped in, chattering excitedly about the car, and Crowley turned all his attention on him.

"She is a beauty, yes. We've been through a lot together, me and this car."

"Like what?"

"You wouldn't believe me. What did your mum say about you going out?"

"I told her Nanny Ash wanted to see me now we were back, and that was fine. I think she's just glad I'm out of the way so she can unpack."

"Well, good. At least she doesn't mind. How was your trip? Megiddo and that?"

"Boring. There was this weird guy who kept asking me about a dog."

Later, they sat at a slightly sticky table in a slightly sticky fast food place, demolishing some chicken nuggets, and Crowley used a quiet miracle to make sure they weren't overheard.

"I wanted to talk to you, actually. About when Brother Francis and I used to teach you things."

"I didn't listen to him like I listened to you, don't worry."

"Ah. Yeah. Well, that's the problem. I taught you some bad things. Like… like crushing the world beneath your feet, I shouldn't have told you to do that."

"I never figured out how, anyway." Warlock frowned. "If you shouldn't have said it, why did you?"

Crowley had never believed in keeping the truth from those with sincere questions, not really, and there was nobody there to make him. So he told Warlock the whole story, barring the original baby swap. He told him about Ashtoreth being a demon, Brother Francis an angel; about how they'd thought Warlock was the Antichrist, Destroyer of Worlds, and how they'd been trying to raise him neutral so he wouldn't put an end to the world.

"But I'm not the Antichrist," Warlock pointed out, somewhat doubtfully, "I'm just me."

"You're not the Antichrist," Crowley confirmed, "but _just you_ is a good thing. You're human, and you're free, and you're a good kid."

"But… no powers? No ruling over the nations of men? No infernal armies at my command?"

"I'm afraid not, lamb." He really _had_ listened to his Nanny; Crowley was touched. "But it's better that way. You get to be human. The real Antichrist, he chose that, too."

"And the world's definitely not ending?"

"Not for a while, no."

"And I shouldn't try."

"No. Enjoy the world. We worked hard to save it."

Warlock considered this for a while, stealing one of Crowley's nuggets despite the abundance still set before him. Crowley raised an eyebrow - he hadn't even tried to do it while Crowley wasn't looking - but Warlock just grinned and kept chewing.

"So," he began, once he'd swallowed the stolen nugget, "have you and Brother Francis kissed yet?"

"What?"

"You told me you loved him. And he loves you, I know that. So have you been kissing, all the time I've been away?"

"Er. No. No, none of that… sort of thing."

"Good. Kissing's gross. Thought grown-ups liked it, though."

"Well- yes, some do, sometimes, but only if the other person's interested-"

"What did he say when you asked him?"

"I didn't- haven't- wouldn't-" And Warlock, for once in his life, tactfully dropped the subject before Crowley could blush any deeper.

When Crowley dropped him home, Warlock gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek, just like he used to do when he was very little. Then he kissed his cheek again and smirked in that infuriating way Crowley had taught him.

"One of those was for Brother Francis. You have to pass it on." Then he ran off through the gates, leaving Crowley to stare blankly after him.

The kid might not be the Antichrist, but he was still trouble. Crowley couldn't be more proud.

* * *

The next day, Crowley walked into the bookshop with blazing cheeks and an air of determination. 

"Angel. Warlock asked me to give you this."

Aziraphale turned, a book slipping from his hands as Crowley's lips collided with his cheek.

"You were with Warlock yesterday? I thought- I thought you had a _date_ , I thought I'd missed-"

"This is from me," Crowley blurted, too close to the angel to think clearly, and carefully pressed his lips to Aziraphale's. He was expecting the angel to react with shock, perhaps even anger or revulsion; what he got instead was a contented little moan that hummed directly against his lips, Aziraphale bringing his arms around to hold him close. Crowley stumbled backwards, caught off guard by this reaction, and Aziraphale laughed sheepishly.

"I'm sorry, my dear. It's just that I've been trying to work up the courage to do that for weeks."

"You- what?"

"You must have noticed. Every time I nearly kissed you-"

"You have been acting weird," Crowley admitted, "but I just thought it was because you were weird."

"I am," Aziraphale agreed, "can I kiss you now?"

"Er. Yeah. Please."

Hours later, at a little restaurant just around the corner from the shop, Crowley could feel himself beaming at Aziraphale as he ate.

"I'm glad you kissed me," the angel told him between mouthfuls, "thank Her for that boy."

"He's going to be insufferable if I tell him. He's known how I feel about you for years."

"So have I," the angel admitted, "but I was still afraid to act on it."

"Well, you can thank him yourself next time we meet up. He knew it was you, by the way, at his party."

"He knew- why, the little ruffian _heckled_ me!"

Crowley let the wave of mild, slightly fond indignation wash over him and kept his eyes on Aziraphale. It took him a moment to realise when his angel changed the subject.

"I'm glad you're staying in touch. I know you're fond of the boy."

"Got used to him, is all," Crowley mumbled, before relenting as Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. "Well, yeah. He's our boy."

"Yes, he is. And he _still_ turned out all right." The angel topped up both of their wine glasses and raised his in a toast. "To that miracle."

Crowley smiled as their glasses touched. 

"To Warlock."


End file.
